


Kidnapped - Again

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 16:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: Blair has been kidnapped... yet again





	Kidnapped - Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sentinel Thursday challenge 'Sandburg zone'

Kidnapped - Again

by Bluewolf

Blair was missing.

He was seen leaving his 'office' in artefact storage room 3 just before 2pm. Indeed, he had phoned to let Jim, who had the day off, know he was on his way home. When he still hadn't arrived by three, Jim tried his cell phone, which rang but went unanswered.

Worried, Jim headed for Rainier. He knew where Blair usually parked, and sure enough, the volvo was there, Blair's backpack in the back seat, and the keys lying on the floor in front of the driver's seat.

It was obvious that Blair had been kidnapped.

***

Blair slowly awoke to the realization that he was lying on a surface that, while not actually uncomfortable, wasn't actually comfortable either. He was on his back, his arms stretched out to the sides, and he couldn't move them; pressure on his wrists told him that he was tied down. Somewhere near him a voice was muttering rhythmically, in time to a soft rattling sound. He lay for a few moments longer, eyes closed, half wanting to go back to sleep; then he forced his eyes open.

He was lying on the ground on a thin mattress, and yes, his wrists were fastened to fairly solid sticks that had been hammered into the ground. He was in a small clearing in a wood. And dancing around the mattress was a man wearing only a loincloth. As he danced he was shaking what looked like a baby's rattle; and he was muttering something, but Blair couldn't make out any actual words.

"What the hell are you doing?" Blair asked quietly.

The man jumped, losing the rhythm he had been following. He stopped and stood looking down at Blair.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand." There was a quality in his voice that implied 'idiot'.

"Try me."

"This is a magic ritual." He spoke as if he considered magic to be the most natural thing in the world.

Blair nodded, thinking _this guy's insane_. "Okay," he said. "And what will it accomplish?"

"It will kill you - and give me your youth." He began to mumble again and shake the rattle.

"No, it won't," Blair said. "You're doing it all wrong."

"Wrong? What do you mean, wrong? I've studied this - "

"Well, for a start you have the wrong kind of rattle. You need one made from a gourd - one that you've made yourself, not one that you've bought."

"What? What makes you think I bought this?"

"That's made from plastic. Plastic is too artificial to use in any traditional ritual. And you're mumbling too much - the spirits won't hear you. If you want your spell to work you need to make a proper rattle and you need to speak the words of your spell clearly. Yes, the spirits are powerful, but you can't expect them to understand what you're asking for if you're just mumbling sounds. It doesn't matter what language you use, but you need to use proper words. I'm a shaman - I know these things."

"He's right," a quiet voice said from somewhere very close. "He's a shaman - and there's no way any spell you might think to use could defeat him."

The man spun around to face the speaker - one of two men who stood at the edge of the small clearing, both with a gun pointed at the self-identified 'magician'. The rattle fell to the ground as the man shrank back.

"That's far enough," a voice said behind him. He swung round, to see two more men standing there.

"You're under arrest," the first speaker said as one of the second two stepped forward and with an easy move snapped handcuffs on his wrists. As soon as that was done the first speaker moved quickly forward and released Blair.

"Thanks, Jim," Blair said.

"How long did you know I was standing there?" Jim asked.

"Pretty well from as soon as I woke up. I think he must have drugged me - I don't remember how I got here. Where _is_ here, anyway?"

"It's the wood at the north side of Cascade Park. It was easy enough to follow the track he left, once we realized what had happened."

They watched as the prisoner was loaded into a police car and driven away. 

Simon looked at Jim. "I suppose that was some of what you call the Sandburg Zone?" he asked.

"A perfect example of it," Jim agreed.


End file.
